your wealth will catch up with you

Peter Parker - Its Not An Internship

this was not requested but i loved writing it, it is a peter parker x stark! reader imagine!! i hope you enjoy it and there will be a definite part two!!

part 2

requests are open:))

Originally posted by parkrpeters

i smiled as i heard the door chime ring. the usual nerdy boy who usually sported science puns on his clothing walked in. his friend was quick behind him trying to speak quietly but it obviously wasn’t working out for him.

“peter this is amazing, we have to tell everyone” the friend of the brown hair’d boy attempted to whisper but it was loud enough for me to hear. his hands were flailing in the air excitedly while peter just looked annoyed.

“ned shut up!” peter snapped at his friend ned. he looked back at him he sent a glare his way as they both pulled out their books from their bag.

“okay the teacher was making no sense tod-” peters friend began rambling on and on about something but my eyes were focused on him, the way his eyes scanned through the text, the way his smile starts at the far corners of his mouth.

i was starring from the counter pretending to be at the cash register but no one was paying. someone bumped my hip, i looked up to see my co-worker olivia nod her head toward the table. i blushed while grabbing a note pad and a pen.

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arawynn  asked:

Your Viking husband Bucky was barely at home. Always away, raiding to gain honour and wealth. When he's at home, he barely spent time with the other men and isn't often seen around the village. Rumors go around that he's catching up on certain (sinful) things but it's actually either laying in bed while holding you close or hugging you almost 24/7 while following you in the house like a puppy.

I just pictured him asking you to fake sex noises so the men think he’s doing that

Tender Tuesday™

The Best Idea

Poc!Reader x Sam Wilson

Warnings: Cursing, Litness + i wrote this while listening to Vybz Kartel so yeah…

(Honestly this drabble is a joke at this point)

Sam thought taking the whole team to a club was not the best idea. Yet here they were steve trying to get drunk and bucky doing the same, sam guessed it was a competition, natasha grinding against a poor civilian, bruce was actually having fun lookin at all dat ass in da club (im really sorry for writing this), thor was getting LIT, and Y/N was the littest. Y/N came up with the brilliant plan to bring the avengers here and now Sam was suffering. Sam was suffering because he had to see Y/N throw that ass in a circle and not get to catch it. Sam has liked Y/N for quite a long time now and he didnt appreciate this kind of treatment from God. Sam was Jamaican so you knew he loved ass and body-ody-ody in all its phat gloriousness. You were surprised that Sam hadn’t spontaneously combusted yet despite your vigorous gyrations.

You knew that Sam liked you. Of course you did, I mean your room is right next to his and despite tony’s overflowing wealth he did not buy thicc (like your ass) walls and that ended up with you hearing someone calling your name while someone took a shower. I mean there were other obvious things like how he would get flustered around you, try to flirt with you, and how he would stare at you, kinda like how he was doing now. You liked him back (or is it love) and you were just waiting for him to make the first move so it would be confirmed that he actually liked you. You tried many different tactics to confirm if he liked you like cooking (your griot was heavenly), twerking on him (that was quite an adventure), bringing him to meet your family (they were glad he was black) and many,MANY other things. So tonight was one of those times where you were ‘hinting’ that you were interested or at least trying to get him to confront you. Fortunate enouh this was aso the night sam would snap.

You were having a grand old time twerking and getting Sam jealous. And Sam was having a grand old time being jealous. Sam at this point in the night (nearing the end) had been lectured by almost all of the avengers plus some drunk dude that he should pursue what he wanted. And he wanted you. ’

‘You got this Wilson, you’ve fought a fucking dude with fucked up eyeshadow/mascara you can do anything.’ He lectured himself.

He walked across the crowded, sweaty place. Bumping into many horny, gross people on his way towards you. As he reached you he got even more annoyed and envious of and with the person you were wining on. Finally he got to your location and you looked up and saw his almost black eyes under the sparse club lights lit up with possessiveness. While to you possessiveness wasn’t a positive trait on sam it was delicious. You winked at him, riling him up even more and left your current partner to walk the little ways between you and Sam to dance with him.

Sam decided speaking in a loud club was not the best idea but with the situation he was in he decided to go for it.

You were twerking, grinding, wining getting it fucking ON with Sam, he and you were obviously enjoying it so you didnt think Sam having to talk to you was necessary yet here yall were.

“Y/N I like you… a lot. So maybe you should stop before…things go too far.” He warned.

“Oh Sam I like you too..a lot. What do you think all this was for?”

Even in the dark of the club you could see the utter surprise and astonishment at your confession in his eyes. After a brief interlude of surprise on both yalls parts he gathered himself, grabbed your hand and brought you to the back to talk and maybe *wink wink* for some special…things. Maybe going to the club was the best idea.

Ok so i know this was a really sucky ending but the way i saw this going was smutty and i dont write smut. Also if you caught the rpdr reference hit me up lol. Hope you liked it!🤙🏾


For the first day of bellowdiamondweek

Blue Diamond/Yellow Diamond

Human AU, Period AU

Rated T

From the other side of the glass pane, the weak afternoon light did little to warm Blue’s hands as she held a book she had long given up reading. Well-dressed people passed by in their shopping sprees for the upcoming Season, and the lady felt less than cheerful.

“Please, come away from the window,” she heard, interrupting her indolent thoughts.

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anonymous asked:

what is sugar daddy riddler like?

        It takes five months for him to use you as anything more than a personal personal assistant. He has you sit in his lap as he reads the morning papers, you’re not allow to talk unless he addresses you first. His hand massages your thigh causally while his thumb caresses you minutely. 

    He’s grown more confident in his roll over the time and the two of you have set up ground rules.  You are to never call him ‘daddy’. Sir is a fine substitute for the term. While in public and with other rogues you’re just another henchman. you’ve spent together. 

    He opens a credit card under a pseudonym and allows you buy anything you want. The only catch is you can’t share his wealth with anyone else before asking permission. Despite this, he carries a wad of cash on him at all time, Riddler likes to fling 100s at you when you answer a riddle right or do something to please him. It’s a way to remind you of your place. 

    Expensive dates and extravagant gifts become a normal thing from him and he expects you to appreciate them all, even if they aren’t all suited for your taste. 

Imagine: You’ve been with the Company since the beginning of the journey to reclaim Erebor. When the Company and yourself have finally ridden the old kingdom of Smaug and taken it back, you and Thorin get into a fight.

You had been the quiet one among the Company and the most reasonable, you had never once talk back to anyone or question an order. You did what you were told and when you were told, never hesitating. You trusted Thorin to make good decisions, you saw the king inside of him, but you hated what he had become once you had reached The Lonely Mountain. He had begun to go mad like his Grandfather and you refused to lose him. During the journey you got to know Thorin, you had got to know him so well you had fallen in love. Thorin knew you were in love with him, because he felt the same way towards you. 

“You will not stop until the arkenstone is found! You will all keep looking, without rest. You are dwarves, live up to your heritage and obey your king.” Thorin hissed at the company. You had stopped looking a while ago, the arkenstone had already been found by Bilbo. You were the only other person besides Bilbo, who knew that. 

You watched from a corner doorway as the company sleeplessly kept up their search for the kings jewel. They refused the urge they all had to disobey Thorin and tell him he was mad, the loyalty they had for that dwarf was incredible.

“Y/N? What did I say, start your search.” Thorin growled. You looked him in the eye searching for the man that you had fallen in love with overtime. You respected Thorin, but this man was not the real Thoirn Oakenshield and you refused to keep quiet any longer.

“No.” You said quietly not looking him in the eye. The minute you refused his order it was like everything stopped, the company all looked at you in surprise to hear you refuse a direct command form Thorin, was something completely new to them. Thorin was a little taken back by your response, but quickly covered it up as he slowly turned towards you a cold glare plastered on his face.

“What?” He growled staring you down at you from a top the mound of gold to which he stood. It took you a little bit to regain your voice and make it as harsh as his own.

“I will be a slave to you no longer. I have kept quiet for much too long. We need rest and you need time away from this poisonous gold.” You said sternly, standing your ground, Thorin straightened his back and held his head high.

“Everyone leave us.” He said with no expression. The Company was hesitant, but still obeyed their King’s orders. They trudged up the huge mounds of gold and into one of the many hallways of the kingdom. Most them gave you sad looks as they left. You kept a stern look, hiding your true feeling of fear.

 “How dare you question your Kings direct order.” His back was to you when you said that, but the way the words left his mouth filled with vile hatred, you knew he was not happy.

 “You are not my King.” You whispered. You looked down as you said that, knowing if he turned around the look you would get form him would kill you inside.

 “What.” He snapped spinning around, gold scattering. You flinched, but looked up to see his stone, cold, hate filled glare, staring straight at you.

 “This man you have become, he…he is not my King. He…he is not the man I fell in love with. I fell in love with a true King, but the man that stands before me now is nothing, but a tyrant!” You hissed catching him off guard, but he quickly retaliated.  

“And you are nothing but a lousy whore, who tells every man she loves him only to steal his wealth.” He growled, as he now towered over you. Your heart broke when he called you a whore, but you tried your best to show no emotion.

 “You are no better than Smaug.” You hissed back, but immediately regretted it as you felt his hand connect with your cheek. Your eyes went wide with surprise.

 “Do not ever compare me to a serpant!” He yelled as he punched your other cheek. You were on the ground now with bruising cheeks, but still you kept talking.

 “I don’t need to compare you to something that a you are. A woman beating snake, who has no honor.” You said breathlessly, but what you didn’t realize is that Thorin held a dagger in his hand and as you finished your hateful comment that had been true, he plunged the dagger into your stomach  out of pure anger.

 You let out a gasp, as you sat there on your knees, the dagger sticking out of your stomach and blood beginning to spill out. Thorin stepped back to see what he had done. He had no expression on his face, as he watched you slowly and painfully die.

 “I still love you.” You barely whispered before you fell to your side, but before you closed your eyes excepting your fate you heard the mutiple cries of sorrow. Though they did not come from Thorin, they came from the company. Fili and Bilbo running to you’re side at Fili screamed Iat his uncle. The yelling did nothing to help you, as you lay dying in the arms of Bilbo Baggins you’re best friend.

Shotgun - Bellamy x Reader Imagine

“My shotgun, shotgun, always to my side.” Shotgun - Dumbfoundead

It was midday. The sun was high in the sky, shining down on you and Bellamy as you both lounged on the hood of the rover. Anytime you waited for the rover to recharge, you and Bellamy had a habit of playing a little game. You would describe future scenarios that were far more ideal than your current one.

“Close your eyes,” you said, rolling onto your side to get a better look at your partner. “No peeking.”

Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his hands beneath his head.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“It’s summer and we’re at the shore. Can you smell the ocean and feel the warm sand against your skin?” You looked down at Bellamy’s freckled face and saw his olive skin glow beneath the light of the sun. “And the salty sea breeze.” You blew softly against his cheek and gained a chuckle from him as a bright smile illuminated his face.

Bellamy relaxed further against the rover, releasing the tension in his facial muscles as you noticed his expression turn serene.  

“Or perhaps it’s winter. It’s the first snow and we’re in our very own cabin cuddled up in front of the fireplace. You have a wealth of books by now and you’re catching up on your favorite, The Iliad. We have a son. He has your freckles.” You walked your fingertips along his cheekbones, playing connect the dots with the freckles that bridged across his nose. “And your determination.”

“And your eyes, your smile, your sensibility…” Bellamy trailed off lovingly.

He took your hand, moving it down to his lips, and planted little pecks against each of your fingertips. When he was finished, he placed your palm against his heart and you felt his pulse quicken.

“He’s giggling because he’s playing with his Auntie O and Uncle Lincoln,” you continued. “We’re happy. It’s peaceful. There’s no more fighting.”

A chance at a normal life sure sounded nice but it only seemed like an unachievable dream.

“Or we’re still living the fast life,” you sighed, resting your head against Bellamy’s chest where your hand once was. Your heart rates and breathing seemed to synchronize as you melted into him. “A new threat has presented itself but we face it together, guns blazing. We work hard had and fuck harder.” You tilted your head up until your lips were level with Bellamy’s neck. You brushed your lips along his skin, dragging tender kisses down his throat until you met his collarbone. You stopped, feeling Bellamy shiver beneath you. “Or maybe we leave Arkadia in the dust,” you went on. “We ride off into the sunset with our middle fingers in the sky…just the two of us. Whatever the hell we want.” You pressed your lips against his in a long, delicate kiss. “What do you think?”

Bellamy opened his eyes and looked at you, the light of his life. He grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours and said, “I’ll go anywhere, do anything, and face anyone as long as you’re riding shotgun.”


Age: 20 - 25 22
Occupation: Con Artist
Status: Stray
Suggested faceclaims: Tom Holland, Jordan Fisher, Reece King  


With a natural cleverness akin to a fox, you cheat the wealthy of their money and pass it onto the needy. Nobody can catch your quick mind. Not a soul was a threat to you, except yourself. Behind a devilish smile, you struggle to thwart the greed seeping into your bloodstream. Sometimes, you find yourself doing this to get a taste of wealth and indulgence for once. Not just to shake up the haughty. You had a massive heart, but have you tainted it by your own hand? Tossed aside your virtues for material things?


They suspect you because you’re, quite simply, willing to do anything if the reward was big enough. Even kill. Few see past this and acknowledge your heart of gold. But that didn’t change the fact that people notice your sly eyes, your sneers at authority figures. It wasn’t like Mr Rousseau and Co gave a damn about you, nor your family, anyhow.


His last name is Summers, which is fitting for a boy whose smile could be compared to the sun. Jack was born bright and bubbly to a mother named Francine who had been divorced when Jack was ever born. Jack’s father was never in his life. He never even knew Jack existed. Francine intended to raise Jack as a single mother in Fable, but fate had taken her from him. She passed away when Jack was just a few years old, leaving him to be placed at the Fable Orphanage. He was as happy as he could be, but that wasn’t happy enough. He tried to be the positive one, the bright one, the kind one. But he was uncomfortable in his own skin, desperate and lonely. Jack wanted the other children’s friendship and affection, but they couldn’t see him as who he was, and even as a child he expressed discomfort with his assigned gender at birth, acting out and losing his temper when the orphanage staff didn’t listen to him or called him a girl.

He refused to sleep in the girl’s dormitories and would break out at night, climbing the drainpipes up and down the walls as if they were his own personal beanstalk. The staff, afraid he’d injure himself, relented and gave him his own room. It was only a converted closet, but it was the best gift Jack had ever received, except for when they finally stopped calling him Jacqueline. It was a sunny afternoon, one befitting of Jack’s namesake, when the man who passed by saw him playing in the yard. He watched Jack playing a card game with the other kids, watched his quick hands and the way he charmed the other kids into thinking he wasn’t cheating, and he saw potential. It was the first time anyone had seen anything in Jack besides a confused kid turned trouble maker. The man, whose name Jack would discover was Henry Cole, enquired at the orphanage about the charming young man he’d seen playing in the yard. Oh, how Jack would have grinned from ear to ear at hearing the stranger refer to him as the correct gender without having to be told.

The staff told Cole about Jack’s ‘troubles’. “He’s a good boy,” they said. “He just needs someone with the patience and resources to deal with his, um, special requirements.”

Mr. Cole told them he was that man. To him, Jack was something worth investing in, both for personal and professional reasons. Jack had a twinkle in his eye that reminded Henry of his own. So Jack was placed into Henry’s care and moved to a little house across town that could only be described as ‘rugged’. Henry told Jack he would give him everything he wanted in exchange for Jack’s co-operation. He was to remain under Henry’s care, undergo his tutelage and training. But he would also be able to undergo hormone replacement therapy and eventually surgery, free to run with the wind blowing through his hair, to play catch in the park with someone who could be a real father to him. Jack’s dreams had come true with those words. but the coolest thing Henry offered him? Freedom. He learned every con in the book. He was small and cute with a mob of curly light brown hair, big blue eyes and a wide smile. He faked illnesses, broke into houses, sold ‘designer’ jeans that were really from Walmart with new labels sewn in. The scores got bigger and bigger as Mr. Cole recruited other strays from the streets and involved them in his games. He never adopted them like he had with Jack, but they all had each other’s backs.

There were false I.D.s, fake credit cards, phony life insurance policies. They were forgers and liars, but they were family. They were those who had been abandoned by society, standing up for themselves and making their own homes. As promised, Jack got his hormones, he got his chest surgery for his eighteenth birthday, and he got his new name on a real I.D. for once. Things were going well, until they weren’t. Jack was there when it happened, when a cop mistook the jailbroken iPhones Henry was selling for guns. There was an investigation, but there wasn’t any justice. Eric Rousseau didn’t make a just town. He only made a more divided one, and his sort, they always sided with the cops on this stuff anyway. From that day on, Jack was the head of the household. He did the jobs alone, charming his way into being taken in by rich householders, and then emptying their jewellery boxes, taking a temporary job at a travel agency so he would know when people were going on vacation, and taking advantage of the access to pre-paid travel cards and pre-paid debit cards.

He would have made a life that way, but then something he hadn’t expected happened. One morning, Jack found a cheque. It was an insurance payout. Within the next few weeks, more of them arrived – a bunch of them, in fact. Henry had been smart. He’d had insurance policies in at least four of their fake names. Jack tried not to spend it. He really did. In fact, he gave chunks of it to the other street kids, but when he did the math, it wasn’t hard to see that he still kept most of it to himself. New clothes, new shoes, new phones, new watch… He tried not to be too obvious, to keep his purchases spread out and subtle, but someone must have noticed. When the payouts started coming in, he got a taste of the good life, and it started becoming easier and easier to leave his ‘siblings’ behind. Once upon a time, all Jack had wanted was a family, and now he could hardly stand to be around them because they remind him of what he’s lost. He knows he’s supposed to stand up and be their leader now, but without Henry, he just feels lost.

He had wanted to be good, but the world didn’t thank good people. It spat them out. It was only when he became a liar and a thief, that he began to get everything he wanted. Kindness had never given to him. Why shouldn’t he have something to make him happy for once?

Quick Tips for Writing Horror

It’s not easy to scare people, to genuinely disturb them. If you’re looking to write a horror novel, you’re probably going to find that it’s a lot harder than you originally thought it would be. You’ve seen and read things that make you scared to sleep or that left you dozing because you were so bored. If you’re planning on writing some horror, you need to make special note of what works and what doesn’t. Here are few things to keep in mind to help you get started:

Do Research: This is actually a lot of fun - and may be the most fun you have writing your horror novel. Go watch some movies or read some books and take down notes on what genuinely scares you. What puts you on edge? What builds tension? Now, if you’re writing, be aware that things that scare you in movies might not work well on the page and vise versa. However, if you can distill it down to its purest form, ask yourself why you find it creepy, then you might discover something useful. For example, I hate when a person’s back is turned to the screen/main character and you can’t see their face. To me, that’s one of the worst things and it wracks up the tension significantly. But why does it freak me out so much? After doing some research, I found that someone hiding their face from you creates a sort of warning signal in your brain because you can’t read their emotions or motives. That’s the main reason we find masks so disturbing. So, when I can’t see the character down the hall’s face as the camera approaches them, it makes sense that I’m uneasy because I can’t tell whether or not they’re a threat.

Atmosphere: This is the most important thing you need in horror. It doesn’t matter how many horrific things happen if the atmosphere isn’t right. American Psycho is horrific because of the contrast of Patrick Bateman’s public sphere (wealth, social life, friends) and his private sphere (brutal murders, torture, rape). Because his day-to-day life is so normal, it makes his psychosis that much more awful. Would the Silent Hill games be as scary if there was no fog and everything was lit up like Christmas? Probably not. You need to create a creepy atmosphere to build the tension in your scenes. This puts the reader on edge so that when the real horror catches up, it hits hard and doesn’t fall flat.

Contrasting Moods: You can’t be happy if you can’t be sad, and you can’t feel fear if you can’t feel safety. An important element to keep in mind when writing horror is to create a contrast. The scary parts are going to be even more so if you intersperse scenes of happiness, comedy, and safety. It gives the audience a chance to relax and gives them something to compare their fear to. Also, fear can quickly lose its luster if it’s constantly shoved in the audience’s faces. Imagine if Breaking Bad had all the humor cut out if it and it was just a tragedy about a man getting cancer and becoming a meth-cooking kingpin. It wouldn’t be nearly as popular or entertaining as it is, because the humor allows viewers a contrast to the real downfall of Walt’s life. If there was no humor in the show, it’d be nearly unwatchable due to the emotional monotony.

Cinderella AU (Final Part)

Summary: Cinderella AU LAST PART

Characters: Dean x reader

A/N: LAST PART CODE RED PEOPLE Seriously I have absolutely loved writing this so as always let me know what you think!!!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tagging @treasurecastiel and @love-untiltheresnoloveleft because they asked me to! Thanks for everything!!! (Look guys I remembered!!)

Originally posted by whiteangelxoxo

The silence was deafening. The room was so silent Dean could hear his own heart beat, slow and steady. So slow, in fact, that it almost wasn’t there.

All eyes were on him, their features twisted in pity though Dean refused to make eye contact with any of them. Instead he kept his gaze on the back door willing you to walk through it. Your dress flowing out around you as you walked. Your skin glowing with happiness. Your grin so big it spread to your eyes, making them sparkle and the corners crinkle slightly.

Yes everyone else had given up on you. But not Dean.

So he stood, frozen in place for several minutes after the song had ended and waited for you to come, a million excuses flying through his mind though none of them being good enough to calm him down.

He made eye contact with Sam next to him. Sam’s face, just like everyone else’s, had fallen with pity which could only mean one thing, he had given up on you too.

Dean shook his head, still refusing to believe what seemed so obvious. His eyes combed through the room, looking to see if you were hiding.

This had to be some trick, you were hiding in one of the rooms ready to jump out and yell surprise. Or you were testing him, to see how he would react. In dean’s mind you could be doing a lot of things but running from him wasn’t one of them.

His eyes connected with his fathers in his search, his face showing the same expression as the rest. This is what made it real for Dean.

After all his father was the king, his father knew best. You weren’t here. That was a fact, a fact Dean didn’t want to admit but a fact nonetheless. The time had passed in which your late arrival could have been explained by some simple mistake.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, to make everything look normal as he took a hesitant step down the altar. Then another. Then finally he was down on ground level.

He looked out at the audience, opening his mouth to speak but having to close it as no words came out. His throat tightened around the lump in it as Dean spun around, turning his back to the crowd.

Who cared about trying to seem strong? The woman he loved, who he thought loved him back, had just left him. How was he supposed to remain strong after something like that?

He brought a hand up and covered his mouth as his face broke, his eyes clenching shut as he did everything he could to keep the tears at bay.

The breaths of everyone in the room caught in their throats as they found themselves unable to tear their eyes off of the princes’ back.

Everyone’s attention was so focused on the prince that no one saw the king slip out through the side door.


You tried desperately to keep your cries quiet. You were not about to give your mother the satisfaction of knowing she could still hurt you, even from within a cell.

A door opened at the top of them, light flooding down the dimly lit staircase for a brief second before the door was closed at the top.

Large footsteps descended the stairs towards you, stopping on the stair just above your head but you made no move to see who it was.

Your cries were still relatively loud when you felt the person’s large hand clasp your shoulder. You immediately jumped back, a person’s touch all too often being with the intent to hurt you.

Your cries stopped though your vision remained blurry from tears as you pushed yourself up against the wall.

“Relax Y/N I’m not here to hurt you.” The voice was instantly recognizable to you as you calmed down.

You shut your eyes allowing the pent up tears to fall down your face before opening them again to see Richard standing in front of you, worry evident in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, making sure to keep his hands off of you.

“What are you doing down here?” You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Trying to find you, you’re late” He said, standing up and offering you a hand to help you stand.

“I’m not going” You muttered, staying where you sat.

“What do you mean?” He asked, clearly surprised as he knelt back down.

Your lip quivered slightly as you spoke “She was right Richard. He doesn’t want me, why would he? I-I’m not worth him”

“Whoa slow down” Richard spoke softly, running his hand up and down your shoulder soothingly “Who’s right?”

“Mother” The simple word made Richards face drop even further.

“You still trust her?” His disbelief was evident “you know she doesn’t have you best interests at heart, listening to her does no one any good.”

“It doesn’t matter whose interests she has at heart” You sighed “All that matters is that her logic is sound. I’m a nobody Richard,” You swallowed, willing yourself to stay strong “I’m a peasant and he’s a prince. Can you really say that this is going to work?”

“I can” His answer was immediate catching you by surprise “I see the way he looks at you, I know he loves you. I also know that you love him.”

You looked up at him skeptically though kept your mouth shut giving him another opportunity to say something.

Richard watched you for a moment before sighing “You and I both know you don’t actually care about the wealth difference so do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

You bit your lip, sighing slightly as you did so, before taking a deep breath and speaking “He saved me Richard. I was left at the bottom of the stairs to die and he saved me, never once left my side until I was strong enough to do things on my own.” You stopped for a second, not once making eye contact with Richard “but what if that’s all he sees me as? What if to him I’m just some poor helpless creature who needs his help and that’s why he stays? Not because he actually likes me but he likes the feeling of helping me.”

“You know that’s insane right?” Richard said immediately though you still didn’t look up at him.

“Is it though?” You mumbled “I mean not only am I not royalty but I’m not pretty, I’m not smart, I’m not strong or brave. I’m nothing”

“Y/N you are all of those things and more” Richard spoke softly “Not to mention that Dean saw all of those things in you way before he saved you.”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, your brows furrowed with curiosity.

“When we first took their measurements” Richards smile was soft as he looked down on you “Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, I don’t think he caught a single word I’d said”

A small smile crept across your face as a light blush dusted your cheeks.

“He loves you, he has always loved you. And I’d be willing to bet anything that he’s going crazy now that you’re late for the wedding.”

You chuckled softly as Richard stood up and offered you his hands, this time you took them gladly, allowing him to help you stand up and lead you up the staircase.

You pushed open the door at the top and light flooded around you, making you squint tightly.

You couldn’t help but notice, however, how empty the hallway looked, how quiet it was. There were no servants rushing to and fro, no partygoers walking down them and chatting loudly, no music as you had expected there to be.

“I’m not too late am I?” Despite the fact that you were alone you still felt the need to whisper as you looped your arm in Richards as he led you briskly down the hall.

He only shrugged “better late than never.”

You reached the entrance to the back of the room to see a guard standing in front of it.

“Excuse me” You said, reaching for the door handle only to have the guard swipe your hand away.

“You may not enter” His words were few but weighted with authority making your brows furrow.

“What do you mean, this is my wedding?!” You said, doing your best to keep your voice under control.

“I am under strict orders to keep you out of this room.”

“Whose orders?” Richard demanded clearly as upset as you were.

“Mine” A new voice spoke from slightly further down the hall.

You turned to face this new person to see the king walking towards you. You opened your mouth to respond but closed it as you found yourself at a loss for words.

“I-I’ve made a mistake” He said, his voice stuttering slightly making it evident he was not used to saying those words. “I thought that if I could prevent you from marrying my son then he would go for someone of royalty” He made no attempt to sugar coat his words as he spoke to you “Though I now see that I have underestimated my sons feelings for you.” The king took a deep breath before continuing as you watched him, too surprised by his actions to say anything “I now fear that if you do not marry him he will never be the same again.”

He waited for you say something though you simply stared at him, frozen in place. He had lied to you, given you a fake blessing, sent you to your mother in hopes that she could talk you out of the marriage, then he ordered the knights to keep you out of the room. Did he really just expect you to just forgive him?

“Move” You told him, doing your best to keep any anger from your voice.

The king stepped aside, ordering the knight to do the same.

You pushed the doors open, they didn’t even squeak as the glided noiselessly over the carpet. The crowd all turned in their seats to face you, half of their faces showing relief, the other half confusion.

Dean, however, stood in the front of the room, his back turned to you. All anger you had felt dissipated immediately as you saw him, here, he was actually here.

You nodded to the woman at the organ, signaling her to start playing. The soft song filled the air once again causing Dean’s head to perk up. He made brief eye contact with the woman before turning around, his shoulders slumping in relief as soon as he saw you.

He was about to take a step towards you when Sam grabbed his arm, bringing Dean’s attention to him. A few whispers were shared before Dean took the few steps back up to the altar.

You chuckled slightly and sent him a small wave. Dean grinned and waved back to you causing the crowd to laugh, not that you really noticed, you were too entranced with Dean.

You could faintly feel Richards arm wrap around yours as he pulled you forward, your eyes never leaving Dean’s.

Richard took your hands in his and spun you around to face him. For the first time since you had walked in your eyes left Dean’s as you looked at Richard, a proud smile on his face. He leaned down slightly and pressed a short kiss to your forehead. You grinned and offered him a small nod, a silent thank you.

He nodded back before handing you off to Dean, his large hand capturing yours and holding on tightly as he helped you up the steps.

You made it to the top and stood next to Dean, both of you turned to face the minister but looking at each other from the corners of your eyes.

“You’re late” He whispered though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“Trust me it was not my idea” You whispered back causing him to chuckle slightly.

“I understand you have written your own vows” The voice of the minster broke through your and Dean’s conversation.

“No” You answered at the same time Dean said “Yes”

You turned to face him, doing your best to appear calm despite the fact that you had nothing prepared “I thought we weren’t writing vows”

Dean simply grinned and winked at you, taking both of your hands in his and taking a deep breath before speaking.

“My entire life I’ve been nothing but a prince, royalty whose every action was motivated by what was good for the country.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “But with you I am not a prince, I’m not important, I’m simply a man. A man who pales in comparison to you.” He had to pause again, another shaky breath passing through his lips “You are beautiful, you are intelligent, you’re funny, and kind and if I were to try and write down everything I want to say right now a sea of ink would not be enough” You bit your lip to try and keep your smile from getting to big but you knew it didn’t work.

Dean paused, a familiar lump forming in his throat, before he continued “And I know you would call a number of those things imperfections, but no, that’s the good stuff, that’s the stuff that makes you you, that’s the stuff that makes you perfect to me. The fact of the matter is that the first day I saw you I felt drawn to you, this indescribable feeling filled me. And it wasn’t until I began to feel physical pain every time I wasn’t around you that I realized what had happened.”

You could feel a lump in your throat identical to Dean’s as tears clouded your eyes, little did you know the audience felt the same way.

“That day my heart made a choice and it chose you, and it makes this same choice every day after.”

Dean grinned at you, the same wetness in his eyes as he pulled you in for a hug. You clung to him tightly, forgetting momentarily that the room was filled with other people. Right now was about you and Dean, just the two of you.

After a few moments you reluctantly pulled back. You chuckled softly, sniffing and wiping your eyes carefully to keep from smudging your makeup.

“Now I’ve got to follow something like that” You joked reconnecting your hands with Dean’s.

The crowd gave a lighthearted chuckle as you reconnected your gaze with Dean’s as well. “Uh-Dean.” You stopped laughing slightly as you realized you had no idea where you were going with this “I’m going to be honest I don’t know how to start this…so let’s start with the facts. The most basic fact being that I love you, even a blind man could see that. Another fact: You love me, this being proved mere seconds ago.” You paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “And now a more depressing fact: I’m poor. And I know you don’t like to think about that but it’s true, and while you have ignored it I have let it consume me. I wasn’t royalty so therefore, in my mind, I wasn’t good enough. But you-“ You stopped, taking in a shaky breath to try and fight back the tears “You saw me for what I was, not what I wasn’t. You looked past every possible hindrance and chose me, and for that I am eternally grateful.”

A soft genuine smile had not left Dean’s face since you had started talking, giving you confidence to continue “It is in part why I am able to stand up here and have no doubts or worries about the vows I make, because you chose me. Despite all of the hard times I’ve been though, despite my brokenness you choose me. The fact of the matter is when I was at my worst you picked me up” You couldn’t fight back the giggle in your throat as a few tears spilled over “both literally and figuratively. That day you saved my life. Not forever, not for good, probably just temporarily.” You admitted honestly “But you saved my life and now I’m yours. That day you made me love you, and after getting to know you better I must admit that it is the greatest thing my heart was ever meant to do”

Dean grinned at you, a few tears of his own spilling down his face as he brought a hand up to your cheek, cupping it briefly and wiping at the tear stains on it.

The minister carried on with the ceremony and you were sure it was a beautiful one though you can’t guarantee you heard all of it. Your only other concrete memory of it being when he announced “You may kiss the bride” and Dean connected your lips to his before the sentence was even over.


The little girl ran around the room, squealing loudly as Sam chased her. Her favorite bear in his hand as he made monster noises.

“Mommy save me!” She giggled as she ran towards the spot where you sat on the ground.

You laughed and opened your arms for her to run into, Sam following right behind her. You quickly wrapped your arms, pinning her’s in place.

“I’ve got her” You chanted to Sam as she squealed even louder, squirming to get out of your grasp.

Sam laughed evilly, his approach getting slower until he suddenly pounced, dropping the bear on the floor and tickling the little girl causing her squeals and laughter to get louder.

The door to the room opened in shut softly, the sound not heard by anyone within the room.

“Sounds like someone’s having fun” His voice, however, captured everyone’s attention, including the little girls.

“DADDY!” She screamed. She was out of your grasp in less than a second and sprinting towards him.

Dean knelt to the ground and held his arms open, the little girl running right into them, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Did you bring me anything from your trip?” She asked excitedly.

“Of course I did” He chuckled, reaching into his bag and extracting a small intricate doll.

“She’s so pretty” The girl breathed out, completely entranced with it as she took it from Dean’s hand and sprinted into the other room, Sam following after her.

Dean chuckled as you did the same, groaning as you started to get up.

“Careful!” Dean immediately cried as he rushed to your side, helping you up.

“I think I can stand myself up” You laughed as a hand flew to your back, providing yourself some extra support.

“That’s why you were groaning so loudly” Dean teased as you hit his chest. He laughed and pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I missed you”

“I missed you too” You responded immediate, your hand flying to your enlarged stomach. “And he missed you too”

“So you think it’s a he?” Dean laughed, his hand also resting on your stomach.

“Have you felt him kick?” You laughed, moving Dean’s hand with you right to where you could feel him kick.

“Atta boy” Dean chanted causing you to laugh.

“What should we name him?” You mused.

Dean only shrugged, a grin so large that it had to hurt on his face as he felt his child’s kicks. You watched him an equally big smile on your face, to this day still not believing how you had ever gotten so lucky as to have met him.

Trumpets (Bucky)

to thank the anon (a treasure), here is another part two or whatever to In My Head and it’s based on, get this, ANOTHER jason derulo hit. WOOOOAH. it’s like not rly smutty at all tho soo sorry abt that. Maybe, if there’s another, then in there.

In the end it was “Ste-Uh-Steve” that’d been the one to call you. Assuming that his name was actually Steve, you were furious. Neither of the names belonged to the man you’d written your number on the arm of, and here, staring at him in all his awkward Ranger glory, you wanted to cry.

“This is what you were going to wear.” You observe, desolation in the words, and he shrugs, glaring at Steve from the corner of his eye. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. You were going to wear this?”

“Yes.” He growls and you sigh, walking around him in a slow circle and ignoring the men leaning against the wall. Across the room, Shelley, who you’d been planning on going out with tonight was lazing on the couch, admiring the décor and ignoring the man candy.

“How many times have you guys taken him out without contacting me?” You ask the silent spectators and someone laughs lowly.

“Four.” Sam pipes up helpfully, barely contained laughter in his voice and you raise your eyebrows in his direction.

“This is among the worst outfits I’ve ever seen.” You announce, Buckys cheeks turning red and his lips parting and wrinkles on his forehead. “Seriously, Buck. It’s late spring. It’ll be summer in three weeks and you’re trying to tell me that this is comfortable, sexy or even nice?”

You watch him, waiting for him to try and convince you, but he remains silent, glaring at his shoes.

“Thank you. Let’s get you seriously dressed. You guys can entertain Shell, right?” You ask the three viewers and they perk up instantly. You glance at your best friend, with her model good looks and sunshine attitude, and she delights you with a warm smile.

“I’m super hungry?” She offers and Tony cuts in front of her, speaking softly. Her expression darkens slightly at his presence but it’s fine. She won’t say anything.

“Open your closet and take off that jacket.” You command and he does so slowly, his expression starkly blank. Military. You flick through the hangers slowly, examining each piece. They’re good quality, expensive brands and materials, but mostly untouched if the tags mean anything. Grabbing a few different options, you lay them across his bed and grab the hem of his shirt.

“Woah, woah.” He starts, hands grabbing yours and you scoff, meeting his gaze for a long moment.

“I’m trying to help you, and getting you semi naked is part of the process, Mountain man.” You mumble, his fingers tightening over yours for a moment before he releases you, letting you peel the shirt over his head. His breath catches as you throw the garment across the room, your eyes glued to his scars.


“Are super cool.” You pant, ignoring the heat blooming in your body and tracing a finger along a thicker line. He shivers. Your eyes trace every dip and curve of his chest, the rough skin reminding you of a song. Something to do with slow sex. “I know you’ll want to hide them though, it’s okay.”

Tension leaks from his shoulders and you run your palms over them and down his biceps. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay, Mountain man. Let’s get you dressed.”

Your eyes run up and down the newly furnished Bucky and you can’t help beaming. His cheeks are pink and he’s shifting from foot to foot, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable.

“Are you okay? Do like it?” You ask softly, tangling your fingers together and wringing them nervously while he looks himself over. You can feel little wrinkles of worry on your face, but you can’t help being worried. If he’s not comfortable, then you’ll have to start all over again.

“It’s good.” He answers gruffly and your sigh comes out in a rush as you dance across the carpet to his side.

“It’s better than good, you look exceptional.” You grin, hanging yourself off his shoulder and smiling at his reflection. His face turns toward you, arm catching you around the waist, but you don’t look up, don’t meet his gaze.

You can’t.

“You look good in red.” You state, cutting through the half tension and patting his Henley clad shoulder. “Accentuates your mountain mannishness.”

He releases you with a soft laughing breath and inclines his head.

“Thank you.” He mutters but you shrug, fiddling with the sleeves you’d pushed to his elbows.

“You’re not city folk, you’re something new and I don’t like letting new things get broken.” You explain, stepping back and examining his hair. “Your hair though. Hmm.”

“He looks fantastic!” Shelley yelps happily, bouncing forward on her teetering heels and you smile at her fondly. She hangs herself on his side, just like you’d done earlier, and the image echos like a sad note of a violin.

“He’s yours tonight, so keep him safe.” You grin, shaking off the sound and his gaze whips from you to her for a moment, then back.


Steve and Sam move to your side, examining the imagine of Bucky and Shelley, standing together, and Steve clucks under his breath disapprovingly.

“Shut up.” You whisper, glaring at him, and he gives Bucky a pointed look. Fine, he doesn’t look interested. He looks unsure like a puppy at the garden fence. All fear and skittering confusion. “Shut up. It’ll work.”

Steves lips part, to disagree, but Sam cuts in first.

“She can’t be his crutch, Steve. There’s gotta be a distance.” Sam murmurs and you relax some. He understands.

“I’m with Sam tonight, he seems most capable at catching a date so he can help.” You declare and Sam brightens, straightening some and offering you his arm. You take it delicately, and he grins.

“Sam?” Tony grunts disbelievingly and you sigh, Shelleys expression changing to something furious.

“Your wealth is a handicap.” You cut in before she can speak and she shoots you a look. “Sam works on sheer force of being Sam. And as a woman myself, he’s charming as f*ck.”

Sam preens, earning laughter from everyone but Bucky and Tony, who grumble softly.

“What the hell is happening?” You snap, staring at Bucky beside a pouting Shelley. He shrugs unhappily, pushing past you and Sam and heading for the bar. You shift closer to your friend but she just offers you a tired look.

“That’s just him. I should’ve warned you.” Sam says in your ear and you tilt your head, frowning. “We’ve all tried to teach him, but since… Since he came back from his trip to Russia… He can’t dance.”

You stare at Sam for a long moment, willing him to say more, but he presses his lips together. What an irregular and ridiculous thing to happen. Travelling to another country and losing your ability to dance? How would that even happen? What kind of process lends itself to a complete loss of rhythm? You glance at Shelley, who looks downtrodden. She would, she’s the dancing queen and she hasn’t had one chance to let loose.

“Go dance, you two. I’ll- I’ll figure something out.” Sam hesitates, but Shelley pulls his hand, her expression grateful as she and him disappear into the crowd. Figure something out. More like you’ll have to drag him out there yourself and rub yourself all over him till he gets the picture.

Is that good, or bad?



“Hey, Mountain man.” You greet gently, watching him swallow and duck some. “You wanna talk about how I never knew you were in the army?”


“Sorry, ambiguous burn. You looked like a wooden soldier out there.” You prod and he glares at you half-heartedly, before downing the rest of his drink. The lights flash over his face, and his blue eyes are lit for a moment with an otherworldly colour and your heart flutters. What’s that song? Magic? Sounds right.

You laugh softly and he steps closer, tilting toward you.

“What’s the joke?” He rumbles and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Your eyes reminded me of Magic, by Coldplay.” You chuckle softly and he frowns, deflating.

“I don’t know it.” He mutters, leaning away from you, but you catch him, keeping him close. Bargaining, you can bargain. Make it a transaction, not an invitation.

“I’ll show it to you, if you come dance with me.” You murmur, rising to your tip toes and he blinks at you, breath short.


Your arms are encircled around Buckys neck, his thigh slipped between your legs as you guide him through the rhythm.

“That’s right, you’ve got it.” You pant, your voice thin and almost needy. His fingers squeeze your hips a mite tighter, pulling you closer and you can feel everything. Your laughter bubbles from your lips of its own accord as you throw your head back, feeling him lean into the opening and glue his lips to your throat.

He sucks gently and you shiver in his arms, the exact praise he needs to swipe his tongue over the spot and suck harder, earning a soft whimper from you. A moan vibrates against your throat and you laugh again.

Is this heaven? A sweaty club with a mountain man grinding all over you?


“Y/N! Get it!” Shelley cheers and your eyes open to spot her a few meters away, putting Sam through his paces, and a bucket of cold washes over you. You can’t do this. There’s a guy sucking on your neck, and you’re rubbing yourself all over him. This can’t happen.

“There. You’ve got it.” You grunt, shifting back from Bucky and pushing his hands off you. His lips part from your throat, and you rub it uncomfortably.

“What? What’s wrong?” He blinks, letting you escape as far back as the crowd will let you.

“You can dance, it’s fine. You just needed… You should go dance with her.” You point at a girl at random, her hair like fire as she leans toward the bartender. Bucky glances over, but he’s looking back to you before you can escape.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again but you can’t answer. Because you can’t tell him.

“Nothing. It was a lesson; you can dance really well. You should go.” You order shakily, still holding the place his lips had been attached to your neck, and shoving back into the crowd. His lips part to say something, but the music is too loud and he’s quickly swallowed by the mass of bodies.

“Is she with you?” Bucky demands and Steve glances around, confusion evident. “Steve?”

“She’s still real. But… You lost her?”

“We were dancing then she just backed off and told me to go after some other girl and disappeared.” Bucky whines, turning back to search the crowd fruitlessly. He wouldn’t be able to spot you in the writhing mass.

“Is Shell still here?” Steve asks, already pulling out his phone to text Sam and ask.

“Last I saw her, yeah, but Y/N could’ve found her.” Bucky groans, scuffing his feet on the floor and throwing himself into the seat beside his friend. “Where’s Tony?”

“Searching out a date for me. Though I think he means for himself.” Steve shrugs, still texting and Bucky laughs weakly.

“Did you know they slept together, Tony and Y/N?” Bucky pipes up and Steve jerks, frowning at him. “Yeah.”

“Woah.” Steve laughs disbelievingly, frowning at his phone for a moment. “It’s either a small world or Tony’s been around the block. And Shell’s gone. Said Y/N texted her that she was leaving.”


so there’s that, but if you guys are interested, i have ideas for another part. and i’ve laid foundations for it, ofc

i also didn’t edit this, soz

“The Devil’s Own” Part 5:  Like Satellites

Bucky has a startling thing to say upon waking up; the Avengers fight Sabretooth. More of your history comes to light.

The Winter Soldier x Reader (Black Widow)


“Jesus, Nat. I think you outran me by about five laps this morning. You need to chill.” Clint shook his head, regarding you wearily. It was early morning, the day after your ruined date with Ryan, the day after Bucky had found you at your club, the day after a tired evening together watching television to stave off the demons that always came for both of you in the night. You’d been woken up by a rapping on your door at 5am sharp; it had been Clint. You always went running at 5am on Mondays, though the more you thought about it, the more you wondered why and exactly who’s idea it had originally been all those years ago… oh yeah, yours. It had been your idea.

Keep reading

trial by fire #5

chapter 5: Snag 

  • “a dead standing tree that can be hazardous“

summary: When a series of fires unsettles the city of Magnolia, Detective Lucy Heartfilia unwittingly reignites a war between old rivals. But when she finds herself drawn to one of her suspects, the lines between right and wrong begin to blur.

rated: M for Mature Content (no nsfw scenes in this chapter)

read: part I | part II | part III | all parts | on

Lucy wasn’t sure how it happened, but twenty minutes later she still found herself laughing and joking with the person she had been planning to professionally interrogate. The case was long forgotten, disregarded in favour of fun anecdotes and light conversation.

They would have continued on for who knows how long, if not suddenly Natsu had went completely still on his bench, breaking off mid-sentence.

Confused, Lucy set her wine glass - the second of the evening - back onto the table, licking her lips to enjoy the last remnants of the liquid.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he spat under his breath, pupils constricting as he kept staring at a point behind her right ear.

“Natsu? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t look,” he almost hissed as she was about to turn her head to follow his line of sight, “but that guy who just came in - fuck, I kid you not, that’s him.”

“You mean-”

“Yes.” She watched Natsu’s eyes squint together as he eyed the person who undoubtedly had to be Jackal. “Damn, he’s even uglier than I remember him.”

Lucy bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the laughter that bubbled in her lungs as she observed Natsu’s offended face.

“What the hell is he doing here?” he growled.

“Eating?” Lucy offered, grinning when he momentarily snapped out of his glaring to roll his eyes at her. She leaned closer towards him, lowering her voice. “Can I look?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “guess he’ll notice me either way. It’s the blonde guy who’s talking to the waitress.”

Carefully, Lucy turned her head sideways as casually as possible.

Natsu hadn’t exaggerated.

Keep reading

happiness o3 [hoseok&you]

Summary: torn between the bitterness of money that ruined your happiness of love, who would have guessed that Hoseok would come and save you from it all.

part one part two

a/n: i am finally done with this series woot! time to move on with requests again ^_^

Originally posted by withtaegi

People are often met with the cliché saying of, if you love someone and wants their happiness to be the greatest, you must let them go. When knowing too that you aren’t someone to reach up to their standards, the best way is just to really let them slip out of your hands.

The countless suffrage of pain and old wounds would open, but it’ll be worth it, wouldn’t it?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Are there any other reasons for a villain to "destroy the earth?" Cause reasons like "to start a new" and "revenge!" is just so boring to me.

Plenty. Before I start though, I’m going to point out, “destroy the earth” is a very cheap narrative device. It’s an attempt to generate tension with the reader by saying, “hey, you live on Earth, you care about living, hey, I’m going to try to make you care by blowing up something you know.” This also runs under the surface of the “New York/Paris/Wherever gets blown up,” and “terrorists will detonate a nuclear weapon,” narrative.

That said, you can uses them. 24 managed to crank out 9 or 10 seasons of threatening to blow up cities or otherwise annihilate western civilization on a remarkably short schedule. But it is a cheap device, and it’s entirely possible to lose your readers on this.

Blowing the place up is probably more interesting than the threat to do so, and can catch your readers off balance. “Of course your heroes are going to save the day, that’s what they… oh…” Just make sure you’ve got someplace to go, once you cross that line.

So, here’s some random reasons:

It was in the way: This might be to create the Douglas Adams Memorial Hyperspace Overpass, or it could be someone just wants to shatter the planet, so the mineral wealth is easier to mine in an asteroid field. It could be the planet is in the path of an interstellar super weapon.

An Accident: This could be your villain is just that bumbling, however it could also be that they really don’t care.

The aliens in Roadside Picnic come to mind as an example of the latter, along with nearly all of the aliens in Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos. These are beings which barely even perceive humans, or view the as stray pests.

This is also possible as an unintended outcome of some technological development. For example, during the Manhattan Project there was reportedly a fear that detonating a nuclear device inside the atmosphere would result in a chain reaction, burning off the atmosphere.

A similar possibility would be the danger of an engineered bio-weapon getting into the wild and annihilating the population.

Prophesied: I’m throwing this one in here because it’s legitimate, but I’m going to start with a warning: Writing prophecies can be very tricky. They run the real risk of being horribly cliche in their own right. As a writer it can be very tempting to say, “well, yeah, that’s how it will play out,” because you’re the one controlling the future of your setting.

With that in mind, it’s entirely possible to have someone who is trying to destroy the world because they want to summon some apocalyptic horror, or usher in a new golden age for their sect in the aftermath. This could be real, or they could be cribbing off a 300 year old fast food menu, and drawing their conclusions on how to bring about a new era that way.

We Can’t Let The Reds Win:

Scorched Earth is adult version of saying, “if I can’t have it, no one can.” It’s entirely possible to have a villain who would rather see the world burn than in the hands of your heroes, or some third faction.

This could be some variation of WWIII, or it could be a lone crazy falsifying a nuclear retaliation when none is called for.

An Object Lesson: As with prophecies, this one can be tricky to handle. But, if your villain is threatening to blow up the planet to ensure fealty, sometimes it’s just going to be more efficient to get it over with.

If you’re a comically exaggerated super villain: Stop telling me how you’re going to blow up the planet to “send a message” and just do it.

Obviously, you can mix and match these as you see fit. They’re not mutually exclusive. You can have a mix of the above in play. This also certainly isn’t a comprehensive list, so you don’t need to feel constrained by the examples above.

Your villain wants to destroy the world, obviously they feel they’re getting something out of it. You just need to ask yourself, “what is it?”


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Glow, My Love

(For Leia (diydrarry), with hopes that the rest of your week will be much better. Also, I hope you find this picture of Will just as attractive as I do ;) Enjoy, dear!)

It’s easier than Harry thinks it should be to forgive Malfoy. The blond’s shoulders sag in relief, and he leans against the wall of the corridor.

And really, if they’ve come this far, why not go farther? “Do you think we can be friends?” Harry asks, studying Malfoy’s eyes. For once, they’re not squinted in anger–they’re wide open, grey and (he admits) lovely.

“Oh boy, friends with the great Harry Potter,” Malfoy says, and something in his tone makes Harry start cracking up.

Malfoy pulls a face at him. “I’m not that funny,” he raises his eyebrows.

“Only the best for Draco the Redeemed,” Harry laughs. “Really, though. Friends?”

He holds out his hand. Draco reaches forward to clasp it. His hand is soft, grip firmer than Harry had expected. They shake, and then he starts to let go.

But then the glowing starts to happen.

Their hands are… glowing? What the fuck? Harry squints at them, hoping that it isn’t some sort of potion reaction. He glances up at Draco, who has a look of shock on his face.

“Do you know what this is?” Harry asks, because he spies recognition in the other man’s eyes. Draco starts nodding before he even finishes the question.

“It’s… a bond. We’re… mates. Soul mates. It can happen after your 17th birthday. Magic.” His sentences are stilted, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of their gently clasped palms.

A wealth of emotions happen all at once, and Harry barely has any time to even consider the idea before Draco is breaking into an open, brilliant smile. It catches Harry off guard even more than the idea of bonding did, because he has never seen Draco smile like this. 

And… this open, free expression transforms Draco. Harry doesn’t know if it’s because of the magic or the happiness, but something really beautiful has been done with the person in front of him.

“You’re… happy about this, then?” Harry asks, wondering why.

“Happy? I’m fucking thrilled, Harry,” Draco says, finally letting go of his hand. The glowing fades; his palm is sweaty, but Draco is still talking. “Every magical child is told stories about this. It’s rare,” he says, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “Mates are perfect for each other, down to the magical signature. It means… it means we’ll be happy, for the rest of our life, if we’re together,” Draco’s voice quiets to a whisper, smile wide as ever.

“So, we… are obligated, then? By this bond?” Harry wants to know. He almost wants to be angry, because his life has been pushed and prodded and forced into a single direction by the surrounding circumstances for as long as he can remember. But he can’t find it in himself. Draco’s smile is still bright, and honestly, being content for the rest of his life doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

“No… we’re not obligated to do anything. We could walk away, now, and have normal lives. Or we could have a completely platonic relationship and still be happy around each other. You know. Don’t feel like…” and his smile fades. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything about it.”

Harry’s heart seizes at seeing that wonderful, elated persona disappear. “I–I want to. Be happy. With you, because apparently, you’re supposed to make me happy,” he says, and bites his lip. He feels suddenly awkward to be staring at Draco’s face, so he drops his eyes to the floor.

Thank you,” Draco says, and Harry doesn’t even have time to look before Draco’s slender arms are wrapping around his body, his blonde head coming to rest on Harry’s shoulder. Startled, he does what’s most natural and slips his arms around Draco’s waist.

“You’re… welcome.” Harry is momentarily breathless because Draco’s touch feels soothing and burning at the same time, and he can smell the citrus in Draco’s shampoo.

“So… do you want to be… friends, then?” Draco asks, not letting go just yet. Harry is starting to feel lightheaded, but he can’t bring himself to mind that Draco is still holding him.

“I want… if it’s as you say, and the bond is just an indicator, then I want us to carry on normally. So, friends, and then if something else happens, then it does,” Harry decides. He still has questions, but he knows now that he has more than enough time to ask them.

Draco’s squeezes him tighter for a millisecond, then pulls away. “I’m so… happy. Merlin, Harry, I’ve dreamed of finding soulmate. Everyone does. And it rather makes sense that it’s you, doesn’t it? After everything. The bond is smart, it waits until you’re of age to manifest because younger wizards aren’t mature enough.” Harry can tell Draco is nervous, because his gestures are a little shaky and he’s rambling a bit. “It was the perfect timing, too. I was really quite relieved that you forgave me… for everything. I’ve forgiven you too, of course. And now we’re friends, I suppose, and… I always wanted to be your friend when we were younger, do you remember?”

Harry only realizes that he’s been staring at Draco’s lips for the entire speech when Draco stops talking. They’re a light shade of pink, pillowy, and he keeps licking them, the red of his tongue just peeping out.

A lump forms in his throat. Harry feels heady, imbued with a new and fantastic piece of knowledge. He’s always wanted to be loved unconditionally–he’s received some of that love through Hermione and the Weasleys. But the idea of being loved so intensely in a romantic way, even just the idea that it might happen, makes him feel giddy and wonderful.

“I want to kiss you,” he admits, even though he has just said that he wants their relationship to flow naturally. But there’s never been anything natural about their relationship, anyhow, so he feels that he’s allowed some artistic license in his decisions.

“You do? Good,” Draco says, and that smile is back. Harry’s heart thuds loud and clear, and he takes a tiny step forward.

Draco closes the gap, putting one hand on Harry’s shoulder and using his other to tilt Harry’s chin in the proper direction. Harry’s eyes flutter shut, because the sensory input is simply too much for him to handle. If simply having his face touched by Draco is this wonderful, then this kiss is going to be–

He leans forward, and then Draco’s lips are touching his. It’s like every kiss he’s ever had, but more, because Draco seems to know exactly how to twist his lips against Harry’s in just the right way. They break apart, kiss again, again, and Harry’s arms slip around Draco’s waist. He never wants this to stop. 

They pull away to breathe, just for a moment, then go to kiss again, except this time they bump noses first. Harry feels Draco smiling against his lips, and a bubble of laughter escapes from his mouth.

And then Draco takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between Harry’s open lips, and Harry decides that he could make out with Draco for the rest of his life. Draco’s tongue is soft and delicate, but not hesitant–he moves it against Harry’s quite insistently until Harry presses his tongue toward Draco in response.

He’s getting hard, he knows. Draco can probably feel him, but he doesn’t mind; he thinks he can feel Draco hardening against his hip, as well. He’s kissing Draco. He’s getting turned on by Draco. Never had he expected… this.

Weightless. He feels weightless, held to the ground only by Draco’s long fingers and slender arms.

They’re both leaning against the wall for support. Finally, they have to pull away and catch their breath. Draco is looking at him with an expression that is almost fond. Harry thinks he likes that.

“Fuck, Harry, if I had known that kissing you would feel like that, I would have done it a long time ago,” Draco chuckles. Harry finds himself admiring this new side of Draco, one that laughs and smiles and kisses Harry.

He nods, too overcome by happiness to speak.

Then, a familiar smirk appears on Draco’s face. It’s slightly changed, because it has happiness behind it instead of enmity. “You want me,” he lowers his voice, flicking his eyes down to Harry’s crotch.

Harry flushes and nods, but then directs his eyes to the slight bulge he can see in Draco’s trousers. Draco grins.

“Yes. I want you,” his eyebrows raise. But then, his expression softens. “Not now, though. We have loads of time, and you said you wanted to do this slowly.”

Harry grins, finally finding his voice again. “I think I might be open to suggestions.”

Draco snorts, and then, just as suddenly as last time, wraps his arms around Harry. “I feel like the luckiest person in the world right now,” he whispers in Harry’s ear.

“I don’t think so,” Harry shifts to return the embrace, Draco feeling warm and firm in his arms. “That would be me.”